LadyChesters 2: Lies, Lies, and More Lies
by WINCHESTERlover67
Summary: It's like an AU took some steroids, ate a few souls, and swan-dived into Hell wearing a thick winter coat.
1. Chapter 1

headcanon: proloughe. it's french for prologue

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 _Naom stood in his favorite corner of Heaven, watching as the other angels passed through the stark, sterile hallways. Things were perfectly ordered. The Apocalypse was all planned out. And Castielle, his personal favorite brainwashed warrior, sat vacantly at Naom's desk, ready to carry out his plans._

 _He cackled, just a little evilly. He wasn't usually one for cackling, but this was a special occasion. Everything was falling straight (note of author: laughter) into place. Sometimes cackling could be excused._

 _He turned, then, to see Casss, slumped in the chair, the perfect, brainwashed slave. He grinned, and began to lecture._

 _"You!" he hissed with a great white smile. "You, you idiot! You thought you were special, didn't you?" He circled her like a shark. "Since the dawn of time, angels have been the perfect soldiers of God. You, however, have broken this time-honored tradition. Free will, though believed by many scholars to be true and genuine, is an illusion. Today, we shall be discussing exactly why you are such a failure. Be sure to copy down the learning target from the board and take plenty of notes." He gestured with a flourish at the whiteboard, his angel blade indicating the I-Can Statement._ _ **I can demonstrate the many ways in which I am a complete and utter failure.**_

 _"First of all, we will be discussing angels that aren't failures. For example, EVERY. SINGLE. ANGEL. BUT. YOU." He slammed his angel blade against the whiteboard, a malicious grin lighting up his face like a currently-being-smote demon. "Take Michael. She - DIDN'T FAIL. Nor did Raphael. Even Gabriel played her part in a twisted, sadistic way." His comment on twistingness and sadism was only a little ironic. "YOU - " he said, pointing his angel blade straight (note of author: laughter) at Casss, "are but a piece of gum we must scrape from the bottom of Heaven's desk. You have failed, time and time and time and time and time again. You barely succeeded in keeping Deanna from graduating. It would have been SO, SO SIMPLE just to BURN THE RECORDS, WIPE THEM from the ONLINE INTERFACE. Her TRANSCISPT! (note of author: laughter) YOU COULD HAVE DESTROYED IT! BUT YOU HAD TO CAUSE A SCENE! YOU COULD HAVE RUINED IT ALL! DO YOU KNOW WHAT COULD HAVE HAPPENED HAD THE HUMANS LEARNED OF OUR TRUE EXISTENCE! ANY MORE THAN ONE AT LEAST. ARE YOU INSANE, CASTIELLE? ARE YOU A FAILURE, CASTIELLE?"_

 _Castielle opened her mouth to answer, but before she could get a word out, he screamed in her face. "THE ANSWER IS YES!"_

 _"You almost ruined our plan with your ineptitude and your TOTAL. FAILURE. This, of course, is why have resorted to a method commonly known as brainwashing, and uncommonly known as FIXING UTTER, COMPLETE KNUCKLEHEADS! I thought you could learn to obey authority. It turns out, according to research and observation, that YOU CANNOT. Do you know why? Do you know why, Castielle? Because you, my friend, ARE A TOTAL FAILURE! You are the epitome of failures. The - the CASTIELLE of knowing what's going on. And you know what Castielle means in that sentence? FAILURE! BECAUSE YOUR NAME. MEANS. FAILURE! Thus, we have resorted to the aforementioned technique of brainwashing. You will find yourself in this room at strategic intervals, mostly between third and fourth period. You will not remember these visits, but you will act on what you are told. You will believe that you act of your own free will. You will have no choice whatsoever in the matter. I'm here to assist your learning, but you are responsible for...well, actually nothing, because you're a COMPLETE AND TOTAL FAILURE. Just sit back and let me continue to drive my knife into your skull, because you can't be trusted with anything, because YOU'RE A FAILURE! Do you hear me, Castielle? A FAILURE! A no-good, angel FAILURE. Make sure to take good notes, you PIECE OF FAILURE GUM." He pointed his angel blade at her once again. "I am going to CHEW YOU FOR A GOOD HOUR BECAUSE YOU'RE A LONG LASTING FLAVOR AND SPIT YOU OUT LIKE THE FAILURE GUM YOU ARE! Note taking is NOT OPTIONAL in this class! Now, onto the syllabus. This is a summary of the tasks you'll be asked to complete in this class." He slammed a thick packet onto his desk, stabbing it with the angel blade for emphasis. "The drop date for this course is three weeks ago. You. Have. No. Free. Will. Make sure to purchase an angel blade and a college-ruled notebook, as they are required for this class in FAILURE." He sat back in his chair, sharpening his angel blade unnecessarily on a piece of flint he had materialized from his pocket._

 _Casss raised her hand emotionlessly._

 _"Yes?" hissed Naom._

 _"Will there be any homework?"_

 _"WHAT A RIDICULOUS QUESTION, YOU **FAILURE!** THIS ISN'T HIGH SCHOOL! And yes, there will be homework. I'd suggest you get started."_


	2. Chapter 2

headcanon: headcanons are cliched

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I stalked up to the hotel room, furiously furiousing. This was - no. This was no. My own sister had left me! For - for - no. I didn't know what for. I could only assume it was a trivial reason, like my gassy habits or her desire to be able to freely eat as much paper as she wanted. This was terrible. Downright no.

"When will you learn that your actions have consequences, Deanna?" I asked, mostly to myself, despite the fact that I was not Deanna - rather, Samantha. "What a tragedy. What a - no. A no."

I flopped down on my bed, once again staring at the ceiling. This had been a terrible Wednesday. And a terrible Tuesdays before that. It was like everywhere I went, my life turned into a bigger tragedy than it already was. Tragic.

I decided the best course of action would be to head out and see if I could track her down. I checked the hotel room despondently, looking for anything (besides my will to live) that I might have left behind.

I found it in the last place I checked. Not my will to live - I still have yet to find that - but a note from my sister.

 _Samantha,_ it read.

 _Sorry for taking off like a bat out of hell. It really hits my spot to have to leave like this, but you know what they say. Mony a mickle maks a muckle. Ah, to be young and foolish and free of consequences like you are. I hope that in my absence, your heart will go on, and even grow fonder. It'd be a load off my mind if you'd consider taking the high road, no matter how high the cost. Go off to college. There is more than one way to skin a cat, but there's a sucker born every minute. Always remember that you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and lawyer than you think. You make a better door than a window. Go after your dreams. And remember, as I've said many times before: MONY A MICKLE MAKS A MUCKLE, Sami. Luv y'all._

 _Your gold in them thar hills,_

 _~~~~DEA~~~~_

I stared in disbelief at the note. What did this mean? How could she have done this? She misused so many cliches! She spelled her own name wrong!

Furiated at her grammar, I tilted my head to the ceiling-covered sky and shrieked a primal, offended, misspelled shriek. "EEEEEEEEEEEEE643EEEEREWEEEEEEEEQEWQEEEEEEEEEEEEEEQUEEREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE3576EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE683EEEEEGAYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE2572EEEEEEE2346ELESBIANEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE46324EEEEEEEEEEEE325EBIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE5637EEPANEEEEEEEEEEEEACEEEEqtq7452EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEETRANSREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE234EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE3472EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE7EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEe!"

There were two things I knew for sure. One, Bertha and Ernesta were lesbians. Two, my sister sucked at grammar. Three, I sucked at math, and four, I had to find her.

And so find her I set out to do.

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It was early in the morning, or perhaps very late at night, or perhaps at some intermediate time in the afternoon, when I stepped into a car dealership in Moron Go Valley, California. It was home to a number of curiosities, including a cactus dealership and a painted sign announcing the end of the world. The most important part, por supuesto et bien sur _,_ was a car dealership dealing classic cars that needed dealing. I'd taken the bus from San Jose, and had walked all the way here from the inconveniently-placed bus stop that stood immediately next to the Cactus Mart.

"Heya, darlin'," drawled a drawling dealer drawlingly. "Welcome to Texas."

"Sir, this is California."

"You one of them round-Earthers?" asked the dealer. "Them round-Earthers, saying Moron Go is in California."

"Sir, I looked at Goggle Maps. We're in California."

"I live here! This is Texas!"

"Okay, fine, whatever," I okay-fine-whatevered. The dealer was a hideous, graying man who looked like the kind of guy who believes he lives in Texas when, in reality, he does not. "Anywho, I need a car."

"A car?"

"A car."

"In town?"

"Yes, in town! Are you insane?"

"Then why do we have to be the ones?"

"BECAUSE IT'S THEEEE CAR! I. NEED. A. FREAKING! CAR!"

"All right, ma'am, I'm going to need you to calm down," he said. While he was busy trying to get me to calm down, I snagged the first pair of car keys I found on his desk and ran.

The car was a hideous white van with fake rust marks and a Ghostbusters symbol painted on the side. I did _not_ want to drive it, but it didn't really seem like I had many other options. I had to find the Deanna, and this van was the only vehicle up to the job.

Well, it was the only one I had the keys for.

And, as they all say:

Mony a mickle maks a muckle.

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A/N

HAY YAL! So ixcited to be back writing LADYCHESTERS! I hope you guys love this new """season""" as much as I do so far! I _totally_ plan ahead a lot and make nothing up as I go! All planed! totasly!#!3521!1!gay!

LUV Y'ALL!

SO MUCH!1

LClover67


	3. Chapter 3

headcanon: chad adds -1 trunk space in your vehicle in Salt and Burn

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It was a dark and stormy night, and stormy was the weather, and dark was the night, and also it was stormy and dark. At least, that was how it was on the crappy black-and-white motelevision. Deanna was half-awake, her hand draped lazily around a mason jar of tea fungus (better known as tea mushroom (better known as Manchurian mushroom))). The stormy and dark and nightly night on the television belonged to an old episode of Scooby-Dooby-Doo from the 1850s, back when Mesmerism was big. Scooby-Dooby-Doo was Mesermeseing a man who had been killed by the ghost of a corrupt real estate developer. This was back in the days when Scooby-Dooby-Doo was a little more violent.

"DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAa," a voice called out of nowhere in French. Deanna, being half-unconsciously-conscious, did not care. Or maybe she just didn't notice.

"DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAa," called the voice again, French as ever. Deanna's consciousness was still only semi-permeable, but she was a little more awake now. Her incompletely-watchful state made her limbs feel like Pb-164, and, though she felt momentarily protected from gamma radiation, this was problematic, as her lack of control caused her to knock over her tea fungus.

"Aw, cats," she said, not cursing but rather referring to the properties of felines. "Anyone there?"

"DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDEEEAAANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNa," said the voice, emphasizing the Dean. "DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEana..."

"WHOTHEHELLISIT?" she yelled blearily.

"C'est moi, Fork," said Fourchette, barging into her room. "Whassup?" They knocked on the motel room mirror three times, and it spiraled out into a secret radioactive-safe nuclear capsule of doom, containing five bags of trail mix.

"Why is this in Motel A-Go-Go?!" asked Deanna.

"Les gens avaient vraiment peur des Russes," Fourchette said francophonically, grabbing a bag of trail mix. "C'est l'heure pour un road trip!"

"Oooh, road trips?" Deanna slurred, drinking the last remnants of her spilled tea mushroom. "I love road trips."

"Ouais," Fourchette ouaised in.

"Way," Deanna agreed anglophonically. "Word." She then stubbed her toe on the nightstand. "SON OF A-"

"T'est toi," said Fourchette. "Pas des gros mots dans ma maison."

"Whatever that means," said Deanna. "Road trips!"

"J'adore les road trips."

"Me too," said Deanna.

"Allons-y." The two humans left the hotel room with a complete disregard for all the luggage that was left to be packed. They ran down the stairs and jumped into Deanna's car, both of them oblivious to the other's motivations. Deanna-she wanted to get away from her sister. To protect her. Fourchette? They were just really bored, and really liked trail mix.

The two of them drove for what might have been hours, days, even, or just a few minutes. Deanna drove, Fourchette sat in the passenger seat, their short Francophone frame occupying the space that usually belonged to Samantha. The night was cold and crisp, and it smelled, in a vague sort of way, like Axe body spray and autumn nights. The sky was cloudless, the stars shone, and the road felt almost like home, almost like those summer nights back in high school when Deanna and her younger-by-four-minutes sister went off on hunts at the spur of the moment, Fredi Merqueeri blasting on the radio and the moon hanging overhead like a sliver of a toenail. It was all very nostalgic, and Deanna was suddenly overcome by the urge to cut off eight inches of her hair. She pulled over to the shoulder of the road and got out her first-aid kit. Scissors.

"Scissors," she repeated, this time out loud, pulling the scissors out of the bag. She chopped off her hair with an unsteady hand, all while Fourchette watched bemusedly.

"Qu'est-ce que tu fais?" asked Fourchette, an eyebrow raised half in condescension.

"So nobody can recognize me," misinterpreted Deanna, chopping off the remainder of her newly-cut rat's tail with the sewing scissors. "Duh."

"Mon dieu," said Fourchette. "Prends mon miroir. C'est mieux comme ca." They tossed the mirror at Deanna, who surprisingly caught it, no matter how tired she was.

She stared into the mirror for a few seconds, and then shrieked. "LA VACHE!"

"Mon dieu, Deana. Je vais l'ameliorer," they said, confiscating the scissors. "C'est horrible. Tsk tsk." They snipped at Deanna's failed haircut for about thirty seconds, and when they handed the mirror back to Deanna, the world's prospects were much brighter. Well, not really, but her hair was freakin' _awesome._

It'd have to do.

The two of them drove for metaphorical days and nights and days and nights, some of them darker and stormier than others. They pulled up on the tail winds of a hunt as soon as Deanna was sure she'd lost her sister's trail, and Fourchette went to go and get weapons out of the trunk. Deanna was angsting on the side of the road when she heard some Francophone confusion emanating from by the car, followed by some nice manly stupidity. She spun around to find Chad launching himself from the trunk, brandishing a Cheeto like a sword.

"How the Hell did you even get in there?!" Deanna asked.

"I was board," said Chad. "Really, really board."

"I think...I think you spelled that wrong," bemused Deanna bemusingly.

"Ouais, elle a raison," Fourchette agreed.

"How did you even get here?" Deanna asked.

"Dunno. I was in the trunk. It was a cool trunk. Like, I dunno, I think it was, like, a Chevy Malibu or something." Deanna paled. _Not a Malibu. NOT A MALIBU!_ "Anyways, I was writing the whole time. Not really paying attention. I might have slept, but I don't think I did."

"Ca va?" Fourchette asked.

"Yeah, savannah," said Chad, not understanding what they were talking about. "What's up with you, Deanna? Where's Samantha?"

"Huh," huhed Deanna. "Now that is a long story."

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A/N YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO! IT's YA GURl CHrysT MALIBU! I TIOTALLY FORGOT ABOUT THE FACT THATTT im SJUPEINSD to WRITE HAPTERS everyTHURS so AT LEAST HI HAD THIS ONE SAAAVED! wow i planed ahed for 1nce! GOT RLY DRUNK AT A COLEG PARTY 2NITE! I DUN EVEN NO IF IM IN COLEG. DUNNO. :) :) :) :) :) :) :)

LUV YAL'L

-JESUS67-


	4. Chapter 4

headcanon: fanfic sucks

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Savannah never really thought she was beautiful. But her world had been shaken upside down when the illustrious Sam Winchester complimented her hair. And, then again, when the swoon-worthy Dean Winchester winked at her. Her life had been so dull, so meaningless, but now, it was full of purpose, and extremely attractive men.

The former incident had occured, as per usual, on a Tuesday. She had been sitting in the school cafeteria, eating the Mystery Vegan Surprise out of a soda can, and her hair had been in shambles. It had been greasy, tangled, so, so, messy. Yet, still, Sam had seen something in it. He'd seen something in _her_. She'd felt as though this was a metaphor for her life. Greasy, tangled, so, so messy, especially when it came to trigonometry.

The latter incident had occured, as per usual, also on a Tuesday. The Winchesters, she would soon learn, were very fond of Tuesdays. She'd been in Remedial Not Cursing Out The Teacher, and Dean Winchester had just swaggered in, a cat-ate-the-canary grin on his face and a most unrespectful arrangement of words on his lips. "**** *** ** * ***** * * ** * ******!" he'd exclaimed at the teacher.

"Mr. Winchester, I'll have to take fifty points off your grade. You are somehow achieving BELOW an F. You have negative points in this class!"

"My ***** of a science teacher said I should ****in' try to reach absolute ****in' zero," he'd said.

Savannah had fallen in love instantly. She'd known he was dangerous. A real bad boy. He was bad at everything. Even bad at being good. But he'd been so, so...seductive. Dreamy. Impassionating. And, of course, downright SECKZI.

Plus, he wore a leather jacket.

"DEAAAAN!" the teacher'd scolded once again. "All you do is swear, skip class, and wear that damned leather jacket!"

"Five ****in' points off your ****in' grade," Dean'd scolded in return. "**** off, lady."

Savannah had giggled ever so slightly, and then it had _happened._ He'd _looked_ at her. _WINKED_ at her. She'd felt a strange warmth bubbling up in her chest. _Dios mio._ He was attractive!

And he'd WINKED at her!

Then she'd fainted, and had been sent to the nurse's office. It had all been rather embarrassing, but everyone had understood. It had been TOTALLY worth it.

Now she was sitting in the school cafeteria, her pink skirt swirling around her, eating the usual Garbage of the Day. Her eighteen closest girlfriends EW NOT IN THAT WAY FOURCHETTE SHUT UP were sitting next to her, giggling and gossipping and bending the boundaries of the space-time continuum. And then - the impossible happened. Dean and Sam walked up to her table!

She shrieked inadvertently. Not one, but _two_ Winchesters, both at her table! It was one of her loftiest dreams come true! She could've kissed them both, right then and there, bounding up like an energetic puppy-dog upon meeting strangers on a walk just to reach their cloud-height faces. Oh, SAAAM, so tall and swoon-worthy, and DEEEAAAAN, so spoon-worthy and tall! NO, DEANNA, SHUT UP, I SAID SWOON-WORTHY!

"Sam, you ****er, look at her. She's ****in' blushin'," said the shorter but much sexier one.

"She certainly is, my good sir," said the taller but much sexier one. "What ought we to do?"

"Kill her, perhaps," said Dean. "Just ****in' gank her. Sounds like a ****in' field day."

Savannah shrieked again. "PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!"

"Oh, my sweet little thing. I wouldn't kill you," said Sam, gazing into his brother's glistening sea-glass fanfiction green eyes.

"Yeah, dumbass. We're not gonna ****in' kill you. We're just gonna ****."

"INCEEEEEEEEEST!" shrieked one of Savannah's many girlfriends. Savannah stayed put, debating her odds. She could run away and be safe, but she'd miss the show of a lifetime...

Dean randomly threw a chair at the wall. "88888888888888 888 888 88 88 88888 8888 8888 8 8888 8 8888 88888!" he screamed in capitalized asterisks.

"Dean are you okay" said Sam ungramatically SORRY GUYS I WAS TIRED YOU'D BEEN DRIVING FOR DAYS, throwing a typewriter at the wall.

"Sam where did you get a typewriter?" asked Savannah.

"Not everything has to make since, Savannah," said Sam. His brother recovered from his momentary fit of teenage angst, and turned to Savannah, a wild, deep look on his face.

"You're ****in' hot."

He lunged towards her with the speed and strength of a wild Impala dashing across the Serengeti, gripping her face in his hands the way an alligator grasps its prey in its jaws. His lips met hers with an unflinching passion, and their tongues tangled mercilessly, MMA fighters struck with a sudden divine inspiration. It felt, she imagined, how Noah had felt the day that dove had returned with an olive branch that day on the ark, like her whole life had been forty days of rain and this was the first break in the clouds, the first sun in the storm. LET THERE BE LIGHT flashed through her head as she slurped her tongue around his teeth, tasting the cheeseburger he had eaten for breakfast. She also noticed that they tasted suspiciously of the way she'd imagined Sam's lips would taste. Maybe it was because they were brothers.

She felt as though she had been cast out of heaven and had landed in his arms, strong and sultry and secure, and he kissed her home, back to heaven, to God, to Michael, to Lucifer's sudden absence. To the Anelgske and the angels, to the lost souls found. To _her_ lost soul found. In the history of the world, more specifically, Hollywood, there had been five kisses.

This one outkissed them all.

Dean pulled away, resting his forehead against hers and panting vaguely. "Hawt," he said, and then leapt away into the sunset.

It was 12 AM.

"Hey! Sam!" called Savannah. Her maybe-lover's equally-attractive brother had not moved from his spot on the other cafeteria table. "Can you, uh, give me a ride home?"

"Only if you give me a ride to paradise," he said with a wink.

"What does that even mean."

And then he kissed her.

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A/N HAY AL

THIS IS CHRYSTI! I HAD THE BEST DAY OF MY ENTIRE LIFE! REMEMBER ANGELA? I SAW HER AT THE GROCERY STORE AND SHE WAS VERY PRETTY AND WEARING A SWEATSHIRT AND HER HAIR WAS A MESS AND UGHHH SHE WAS SO PRETTY SO I PULLED HER INTO THE FROZEN FOODS AISLES AND WEKISSSED! AND I THINK WE MIGHT BE OFFICIALLY DATING AGAIN! AHHHHHHHH!

LOVE YAAAAALLLLLLLLL!

~Chrysti Angela'slastname


	5. Chapter 5

headcanon: burning books is fun and okay!

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I seethed with hatred, an icy hot glare focusing itself on the subject of my resentment. A Mr Chad Deltoid was standing before me, an aspiring young writer with toned abs that suggested he was neither an intellectual nor a creative, he was an athletic. The few books I had read by athletics had left something to be desired, and they were always about sports. Romance was supposed to be written by romantics, inspiring football novels were supposed to be written by athletics, the ones that are all about teamwork, sports, and somehow religion as well. The ones that are always really about how ever single football player is probably gay because otherwise why would they slap each others asses so much? He was the kind of "straight" guy to write that kind of book. Romance couldn't even describe the story I had just read, I kind of wish it was a sports novel instead.

Chad's mental age was a thirteen year old girl.

My favorite Bic lighter felt suddenly cold in my jacket pocket, even through all five layers I was wearing beneath it. I only wasted a moment contemplating how Bic makes both lighters and pens before I lunged. I ripped the lighter out of my pocket with a force that could sail a thousand ships, flicked it on, and threw it straight (a/n haha) at the pile of neat Courier-print pages in Chad's hands. They were engulfed within moments in an inferno that rivaled the one that one night, on Samantha's nursery ceiling, took my mother away from me.

Chad watched in horror as his type-written cringey fanfiction smoldered in its rightful place, I hoped that those pages could keep burning, preferably for eternity in hell. I would see them there.

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 _In an undisclosed location that the demons are keeping hidden from humanity._

Arsemis sat in his throne again and waited, mindlessly passing the time. It was fairly late in the day when a demon sped through his door and raced to bow before his throne.

"Your Majes Ty! The most peculiar thing has happened!"

"What?"

"Some... paperwork has arrived for you."

"Not going! All I ever do is paper work, leave before I smite you."

"Your uh, gonna want to see this."

Arsemis stormed through the hallway, very nearly trampling the demon, until he led him to a stack of papers laying scattered on the stone floor.

"What's this."

"We haven't touched it yet, we were waiting for you, but it appears to be fanfiction."

Arsemis bent over and pulled the papers into his arms, preparing to force himself to read them.

It was horrendous. Hideous. Disheartening, disenchanting, disenlightening, all the dises - they were all too little to describe this ABERRATION sitting in front of him. This was the work of a teenage Stephenie Meyer dictating to EL James, who in turn was not actually writing but was on the phone with the darkest, most racist and pandering parts of JK Rowling's inner consciousness, who, though she wasn't writing the racist bits down, was drunk, high, and lacking 10 years of sleep, at least. This was a pile of dog excrement set on fire and left on his desk. On his face. ON HIS LIFE.

Arsemis looked up to the sky, or rather in the undisclosed direction of earth, and swore a little under his breath.

"Deanna, my love, you sent me a gift." He smiled to himself the whole walk back to his throne room, settling back into his chair in a rather chipper mood. "I guess I best return the favor."

A/N

***This fanfiction does not condone the burning of books for any reason***

y'all it was gr8 to wreight after a whyle. doin' nanaonaonnoanowirimeon n havnt sleeped for 4 dyas. hopp this oky. thx 4 st1king w/ m3. gotta go rite 3000 word by 2moro to be only 10000 behind :) ded inside

-Charity

LUV YALE

PLS HELP


	6. Chapter 6

Headcanon: Impalas aren't just cars, in the crazy backwards LC universe, they are also a type of African animal.

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Samantha sat atop her majestic sofa, nobly adorned with pounds of luscious blankets, ice cream in hand, ready to ward off enemies. She wielded a weapon and fought sadness, tooth, nail, and ice cream. It was a long and grueling war but she was beating it into submission. At last, when she was about to finally achieve ultimate suppression of her emotions, the TV channel switched to a boring nature documentary.

At first, she was annoyed, being not in the mood to get up, but as the doc moved between penguins polar bears and jumping birds, she found her interest piqued. Now the doc was of the upmost impotence. This here was fun. And sad. Actually, mostly sad. It was about a gazelle.

"Crap! Hyenas!" Samantha yelled. The fleet little gazelle dashed through the Sahara, an angry hyena hot on its trail. Samantha was on the edge of her seat.

 _"Shit! Denoms!" Deanna yelled, removing herself, Fourchette, and Chad from the side of the road and placing them in her car. Chad was not allowed to sit shotgun. She floored the gas and the Chevy sped off._

The gazelle ducked and jumped across the arid landscape, a desert that was likely not quite a BWh on the Koppen classification. It was too vegetated for that. The impala - and Samantha - knew a lot about climate classification. "RUN! RUN! RUN!"

 _Deanna et al shot through the Canadian Cfb wilderness. She didn't know much about climate, but Fourchette did. So, surprisingly, did Chad, though only enough to say "Man, it's hot as balls out here." Deanna glared at him, momentarily taking her eyes from the road. "DRIVE! DRIVE! DRIVE!" Chad shouted._

Samantha was on the edge of her seat.

 _Deanna was on the edge of her seat. It was too tall for her, and it had always been._

The hyena was closing in. The little gazelle was losing. Samantha bit her nails, sweating. "NO! NO! NOT THE GAZELLE, NOT THE GAZELLE! I'D TRADE MY LIFE FOR YOU, GAZELLE!" she yelled.

 _The Denoms were closing in. Deanna punched the gas. Literally. She brought her hand down to the gas pedal and punched it. Reasonably, they almost crashed. The car skittered over the icy road, her Denomic pursuers in a souped-up Power Wheels Barbie Jeep. They were crammed onto the back of the magicified car, teetering awkwardly like parents in a kindergarten classroom on Go To School Night. "DOUBLE SHIT! WE'RE ALL GONNA DIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Deanna shouted._

The gazelle looked, finally, like it had hope. It was flying through the low brush, leaving the hyena in the dust and dirt of day-after-tomorrow. And then the unthinkable happened. It stumbled. "NOOOO!" shrieked Samantha. "THIS IS THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN TO ANYONE EVER!"

 _Deanna was pretty sure she was going to outrun the Denoms by now. They were in the dust, cursing and coughing in their Denomic dialect as they sped along on their little pink Barbie Jeep. Then the unthinkable happened. A whole wheel went flying off of Deanna's car, missing the Denoms by a millimeter. The Chevy skidded and swerved and spun off the road, into the snowy field beyond. "I'm so sorry for dragging you all into this," Deanna said calmly. "I guess I deserve to go to Hell for all of eternity."_

There was a lake on the horizon, a vast one. Samantha wondered if hyenas could swim. Or if gazelles could, for that matter.

 _There was a patch of melted snow - maybe a lake, Deanna wasn't sure - on the horizon, a vast one. Deanna wondered if Denoms - and their little pink Barbie Jeeps - could swim. Chevys couldn't, that much she knew, but her car had already lost a wheel. She was willing to risk it._

The gazelle veered to the side. Samantha was still biting her nails as it raced off towards the lake.

 _Deanna pulled the steering wheel around with as much force as she could muster. Chad shrieked, and Fourchette stayed characteristically calm, though they looked a little dead inside (and soon to be dead outside). But didn't they all? The Chevy set off at a snail's pace through the Canadian Wilderness, but the dustbound Denoms weren't doing much better. They were still gaining on the Chevy, but the magic that was holding their little vehicle together was starting to wear off. What they were caught in could only be described as a low-speed car chase._

The gazelle dashed away from the hyena, and plunged into the lake. Its head went under, and Samantha screamed. "NO! DON'T DROWN! I LOVE YOU! I COULDN'T BEAR IT IF YOU DIED!"

 _Deanna pulled her car into the fastest gear possible. She didn't know how gears worked. Just as the car soared over the cliff, she turned to Chad specifically and not Fourchette. "It'll be okay. It'll be okay if we all die. It's not like there's anyone left to care." With that, Chad took her face in his hands and attempted to plant a wet kiss on her lips. She pushed him away, not appreciating it one bit. "Can it, Harkness," she snapped, just before the Chevy punctured the surface of the lake._

 _Then it was dark._

Samantha shrieked at the top of her lungs. Then, all of a sudden, beautifully, dramatically, the gazelle's head burst to the surface. "THANK GOD YOU'RE ALIVE!" she screamed, but she knew it was too soon to tell. The hyenas would wait.

 _The lake, thankfully, was rather shallow. It was sort of painful when the elderly Chevy hit the bottom, but Deanna and the rest of them pulled themselves out and crouched on the still-visible top of the car. They'd have to wait the Denoms out. "That was a close one," she said._

The gazelle swam. More like treaded water. Gazelles were not particularly good swimmers, but this one must have been feeling rather aquatic as of late, and paddled in the little runoff pond until the hyenas grew bored and trod off to find another, simpler meal. Samantha sighed and fell over on her side. "Thank God."

 _The three of them waited, crouched on top of the car for hours. The Denoms eventually pulled out their phones and started scrolling through Tumblr. One of them started making an odd CHCHCHCH noise that seemed to be comparable to a Scoff at everything he saw. "CHCCH. Ariana Grande broke up with that Pete guy. Or that Max guy. Or all of them. L-O-L. SCCHCH." Eventually they grew bored, and crammed back into their car to drive, slowly, slowly, slowly, away. "Huh. Neat," said Deanna, pulling out her still-functional Nokia flip phone. "Dude, these things are like bricks. Bricks that make phone calls." She called the repair company, and watched as the Denoms puttered away. "Scoff," she said._

 _Destielle suddenly pooped up behind her, having mistaken the word scoff for ancient summoning ritual. "You called?"_

 _"Destielle!" Deanna exclaimed, throwing her arms around the Anelg. "I missed you, man. Buddy. Pal. Friend. Compatriot." Just like that, Destielle was gone, and in her place lay the corpses of the Pink Barbie Jeep Denoms._

 _"Sweet."_

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A/N

WHAT IS UUUUUP! I HOPE Y'ALL HAD A GREAT THXGIVING! I DID! I ATE TONS OF TOFURKEy. And normal turkey. And maybe some Brussels Sprouts. I'm sorry I couldn't get y'all some fresh new LC for Turkey Day, but I was seein' the fam. My little bro and I hung out and ignored my mother-in-law, which I totally have, cuz I'm totally married. Anyways. ENOUGH ABOUT ME! ANGELA WAS THERE TOO! I LOVE HER! Maybe I'm not married. Do I want to be married? Dunno. Anyways, hope you liked your LC.

Luv Y'all


	7. Anniversary

Headcanon: it's fanworks day or smthn, so this is LC fanfiction (again) and a special anniversary present (IT'S BEEN A YEAR!)

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In a random space (or was it a random _time_ ), two sisters and five other entities sat at a table. One was bubbly yet vaguely evil, a second was intelligent and oddly self-aware, a third was lawyerish, yet not too much - more kingly if you really thought about it - and the fourth wore all grey, and seemed very old. The two sisters were exactly as you would expect. One was incapable of individuality, and the other was incapable of relaxation. They all existed, of course, yet they did not. For what were their lives but fanfiction of fanfiction of a television show that was, in fact, fanfiction itself?

For originality is not real.

They had all gathered for a pastime that wasn't exactly the most ordinary. The pinkish, not-quite-lawyery man had a six-sided die in his hand, and was about to roll for initiative. The initiative in question was who would get up to go get the recently-delivered pizza.

"Are you aware that by doing this, you'll not only be creating six different timelines, but also doing a bad copy of an iconic idea?"

The third one had no number, thus could not really be the third. Instead, everyone else had numbers. He was alone in his non-numerationalness. The bubbly blonde was one, the self-aware, computery one was two, the forkish one was three, the blonde sister was four, the brunette was five, and the previously-forgotten athlete in a crop top was six. The lawyery man grinned as he tossed the die into the air.

"Sure I am."

TIMELINE FIVE

The brunette sister got up to go grab the pizza, and things escalated quickly. Except nothing escalated at all. Four - the other sister - turned on the radio. Carry On Wayward Son came on, and, Four being Four, she began to sing. "CARRY ON MY WAYWARD SOOOON!" she sang.

"Oh, please to be shutting of the up," muttered N/A. He got up to turn the radio off, and hit his head, nearly sending everything flying. Thankfully, Two caught the table just in time.

"You're lucky this isn't a darker timeline," they said suspiciously. N/A grumbled.

"I think I have a concussion," he complained, smacking the radio to turn it off.

One suddenly remembered she'd left pies in the oven, and rushed off to get them. Four, annoyed at being shuttupped shuttuppingly, ran off to the bathroom to definitely not smoke weed. "A bird in the hand beats around the bush," she said sadly.

"This is more unexpected than the time I, an aromantic asexual, had sexual intercourse with Eartha Kitt in an airplane bathroom," said Three.

Six suddenly looked sick. He ran off to the bathroom as fast as he could, pushing past a weedish Four. "GOTTA PUKE!" he yelled.

"Should there be a noise here?" said N/A. "I feel like we're missing something."

Five returned, carrying the pizza. "That pizza man was kinda creepy."

"So was the time I had s-"

"SHUT UP ARNOLD"

"Who the hell is Arnold?"

Five put the pizza down. "Dubloons and Dragoons, huh?"

One brought the pies to the table. "Pizza pie and pie pie!" she said. "This is fixin' to be a great night."

And it was.

"I wonder what happens in all those other timelines?" said Two, at the end of the night.

"There are no other timelines," said N/A.

TIMELINE TWO

The pretty girl, the one with black hair and gorgeous ocean eyes, got up to grab the pizza. Four switched on the radio. It was playing her favorite song. "CARRY ON MY WAYWARD-"

"SHUT YOUR FACE!" yelled N/A. He got up to turn the radio off, but knocked everything off the table. Character sheets, characters, character traits, Japanese characters, and a couple of strange looking forks went flying everywhere. Nobody was there to catch them (ominously), and N/A nearly impaled himself on one of the forks. "Ow."

"Ugh. Seriously?" said Four. She got up to totally not go smoke weed in the bathroom. "You're harshing my buzz."

"We might as well not play," said Three. "Just like how I, an aromantic asexual, might as well have not had sex with Eartha Kitt in an airplane bathroom."

Six suddenly looked very throwuppish, and ran off to the bathroom, bursting through the door before Four could register what was going on. Five screamed like a moose.

One went up to go grab her pies from the oven. By the time she returned, Two was back. "That pizza man was kinda creepy."

"So was the time I-"

"God, shuddup," said somebody.

"I wonder if we played Dubloons and Dragoons in any of the other timelines," said Two, looking disappointed.

"Shut up^2"

TIMELINE FOUR

The blonde sister got up to go get the pizza.

"I guess I drew the shallow end of the gene stick."

Nobody switched on the radio. Nobody thus told the blonde to shut up. Instead, N/A decided the room was getting a bit quiet, so he went to switch on the radio. However, he slipped on a poorly-placed banana peel, and sent the entire table flying. With Mystery-Spot-like grace, Two grabbed the table and steadied it. "You're welcome."

"Thanks, nerd," said N/A.

"You know who wasn't a nerd?" said Three. "Eartha Kitt. I, an aromantic asexual, had sex with her in an airplane bathroom."

Six got up to run to the bathroom, but N/A was lying exactly where he was trying to run. He went sprawling, and spewed the contents of his stomach all over the nicely-carpeted floor.

"Gross," said One. To avoid the situation, she got up to go get her pies out of the oven.

Five made a moose noise.

Four returned, carrying a pizza. "That pizza man was kinda hot," she said.

"Not as hot as E-"

"SHUT UPPPP," said Five. She groaned and leaned back in her chair. "Someone's gotta clean up that disgusting vomit pile over there."

They had a decently enjoyable evening. It was really gross, having to clean up Six's vomit, but they survived. Nobody touched the pies, though. The filling was a bit too...tentacley. Really. That vomit had been _gross._

As Two played her last roll, she had an interesting thought. "I wonder if we had to clean up vomit in all the other timelines," she said.

"This is real life, bro. There are no other timelines," said N/A, eating all the dice.

"Is it, though?" asked Two.

TIMELINE THREE

The die tumbled to the table, proudly announcing a three to the world.

"Fine, I'll go get it, I literally _always_ draw the short straw. It probably happened in all the other timelines too."

Two shook her head as Three sighed and trudged out to retrieve the pizza.

Four clicked on the radio next to her, playing her favorite song, "carry on my wayward-"

"No."

Four folded her arms, "It's classical. You can't appreciate good music." She stomped off to go do normal bathroom things in the bathroom. Six looked to N/A to help, he just shook his head.

"Well I'm going to help her." Six got up and followed Four to the bathroom.

"I can't believe this godawful song." N/A nearly avoided a single obstacle on his way to turn off the radio, but alas it was not meant to be. Thankfully, Two caught the table before everything came crashing down.

Four took out a joint from her bag and was about to light it when Six knocked on the door.

"I'm just... doing... girl stuff."

Six opened the door anyway, which under normal circumstances would be way worse, but he was sure that all she was doing inside was smoking. He grabbed his own pack of cigarettes from inside his baseball cap, placing one in his mouth.

"You think of me as an adult right?" He asked, somewhat distorted.

"Sure, 'The tough thing about adulthood is it starts before you even know it starts' (Robert Redford) Why wouldn't you be an adult?"

Six bit into his cigarette, finishing it off in only a couple bites. "It's just, it seems like ever since we moved in here, we've had the biggest reality check of our lives. I'm not sure I'm ready for it."

"Probably not, you've basically spent your whole life acting like kids, it doesn't make much sense to be sent into such a mature setting so soon."

"We should never have tried to move into our own apartment."

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of Three returning, pizza in hand. Everyone went back to gather at the main table, sitting around delicious pizza and pies.

Five excitedly made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a wail, that nobody was able to place.

"That pizza man was kinda weird. But I guess not as weird as her."

"I wonder if you called me weird in the other timelines."

Three grinned "I know what definitely happened in the other timelines..."

TIMELINE SIX

Six scowled at the die on the table, and reluctantly got up. "See you guys," he grumbled. But, determined not to miss anything, he ran down the hall with as much enthusiasm as usual. He shot out the door and down the elevator shaft, not even noticing his broken leg as he grabbed the pizza from - nope, that wasn't a pizza. That was a bag of dog crap. "Where's the door?"

"Over there?" said a very annoyed woman holding a mushy bag of dog crap. Six shook off his hand and ran towards the door.

"SUP!" he yelled at the pizza man.

"Mary Winchester burning on the ceiling," he said.

"Huh?"

"Huh."

The pizza man was, well, a man. Which meant he wasn't that attractive - but, he was. To Six. Six totally wasn't gay, but if he had been gay, the pizza man would've been the height of handsomeness. He had a long, gray greasy beard, dripping with more grease than braided grease itself. Six sighed dreamily, gazing into his yellow eyes. "Ooh, sexy," he said, and then began to sing a Zara Larsson song where the main premise was letting some guy ruin your life.

"Uh, Dubloons and Dragoons? That's the name I've got on my order. What the hell are you singing?"

"I WANT YOU TO RUIN MY LIFE YOU TO RUIN MY LIFE YOU TO RUIN MY PLANET!" sang Six, unaware that that last part was not actually part of the song. Four _had_ told him it was.

"Uh," said the pizza man. "Is there a babysitter here?"

Six decided he had to act sexy. "No," he said, batting his eyelashes. "But I can be a babysitter if you want me to, babe."

"Just take the pizza," harrumphed the pizza man, shoving the box into poor not-babysitter Six's hand. Six sighed, but, not wanting to miss anything, ran back upstairs as fast as he could.

As soon as he burst through the apartment door, he knew something was wrong. The pizza had pineapples on it. Then he realized everything was on fire.

"COME OUT OF THE F*ING CLOSET!" someone yelled in the background.

Four retorted, "IT'S SAFE IN HERE! FIRE CAN'T GO THROUGH WALLS, IT'S NOT GHOSTS!"

"IT'S F*ING FIRE, YOU DILLWEED!"

"Fire is just weakness leaving the body!"

"You know who else was on fire?" Three piped up.

"PLEASE DON'T SAY EARTHA KITT!" said Three.

"Why did you just reply to your own statement?" said Three.

"I WONDER IF EVERYONE GOT LIT ON F*ING FIRE IN THE OTHER TIMELINES?"

TIMELINE ONE

"I guess It's my turn to get it, because a world leader and politician certainly doesn't have enough on her plate!" One grinned her usual bubbly smile. "Someone get my pies for me!"

One slipped out the door, and Four saw this as the perfect time to click on the radio.

"Carry on-"

"Not right now."

"You don't want to listen to music. Shocking." Four scoffed.

"You know what's shocking in a non-sarcastic way? I, an aromantic asexual, had sex with Eartha Kitt in an airplane bathroom."

"I think I'm gonna barf." Six beat Four on her way to the bathroom, so she just stayed in her chair listening to the radio.

"Turn that stupid song off."

"No thanks."

"I wasn't asking."

"Statements are just questions you haven't met yet."

N/A got up to click off the radio, knocking into the table with a thud. But Two caught it just in time.

"Don't worry, the game's fine." Two assured.

"Yeah because I'm sure everyone cares about the sake of the game and nothing else," N/A grumbled.

It was then that One returned from her quest for pizza, she set it down on the table in front of them.

"Where did you guys put my pies?"

Five made a depleted moose noise.

"I wonder if we forgot the pies in the other timelines."

WE RETURN TO THE PRIME TIMELINE

The dice dropped through the air like a stone, and landed with a thud on Two's outstretched hand.

"There's enough chaos in our world, we might as well control what we can, and not take for granted the things that we know will always be true." She started, "Melissa will always bake. Dana will always reveal unnecessary details about their sex life. Eleanor will always try to get high in the bathroom. Angela will always make a moose noise. Richard will always throw up. And Roy will always be a conniving son of a bitch."

"Sarah!"

"There are six sides to a die, and seven of us. He devised a system in which he never has to get the pizza."

"Well he's going to get the pizza now," Eleanor remarked.

Roy pushed away from the table and stood up, hitting his head on a nearby ceiling fan. The whole group let out a communal giggle.

"Why are you laughing?" Roy asked.

"It was funny," Angela informed him, "N/A, haha."

"Not as funny as when I, an aromantic asexual, had sex with Eartha Kitt in an airplane bathroom," Richard gagged and ran to the bathroom.

Melissa made her way to the kitchen, returning with a steaming plate of delicious pies. Eleanor pressed a few buttons and let music blare through the radio.

"Three's company!"

"There'll be peace when you are done." Everyone sang, between bites of the delicious pies. Angela made a long triumphant moose noise, blending it in with the beat of Kansas.

When Roy finally shoved the door open, nobody seemed much in the mood for pizza anymore, he set it on the table and grabbed himself the first piece, leaning back in his chair. "I wonder if things turned out better in those other timelines."

The rest of the group was too busy singing and dancing to hear his final, defeated, nearly silent remark.

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A/N

I hope you enjoyed a special chapter devoted entirely to references, If you're lucky we might even go into the future of how these timelines ended up. In addition to that, I didn't think anybody would be interested, but PM me if you would like a full rank of how dark each of these timelines end up (you'll probs see it if I post another chapter about how they end up, watch out for it this summer;) I'm sorry I haven't been posting lately, tbh I've had quite a bit of writers block, and I'm glad I can make it up to you with this special chapter.

If you guys are real LC fans, you probably know this already, but today is the anniversary of the creation of Ladychesters, and I'm so excited to share in the celebration with y'all!

P.S. I know that nothing about this chapter is at all original, and it's at best a cheap knockoff, but I like to think you can still enjoy reading it, because that's what fanfiction is all about, remaking a story to be your own.


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